Don't Fear the Reaper
by OCGarbage
Summary: Steve had seen a lot of things in the past year since he'd been Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer-ed: iPhones, microwavable dinners, jet planes, space travel, Asgardians, aliens invading from portals in the sky, but he had never expected to see woman guiding the souls of the dead in the aftermath of New York. (Story starts at Avengers and will go through to Endgame... eventually).
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Hi, I just wanted to write a very quick little preface. I'm getting back into the swing of fanfiction and writing so I apologize for any grammar mistakes or plot holes. I've been writing and rewriting this story, I'm about 35 pages through and there's no end in sight. This idea came to mind after Endgame, which I'm still not quite over. My OC was partially inspired by Gunnerkrigg Court and the Miscellaneous Myths and Legends Summarized videos by the ever awesome Red and OSP (seriously give it a watch if you can). The title came from that Blue Oyster Cult song.

**Chapter 1**

The first time Steve saw her, it was in the aftermath of New York. The air smelled of the acrid smoke from fires that still burned and dust from collapsed buildings. Despite their best efforts to minimize casualties, people still died in the Battle, either from the Chitauri or collateral from Hulk's rampage. The woman was a small dark-skinned Asian with long black hair in a braid, she wore the hi-vis yellow vest and green hard hat of a FEMA CERT member. Her round face was dotted with freckles on her cheek bones, despite her wearing the CERT uniform, she wasn't with a team that Steve could see.

She knelt by a pile of rubble as if to tie her boot but she remained perfectly still, hands on the tied laces. A man with a German Shepherd stood on the top of the pile, the dog sitting down and "indicating". He shook his head, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a flag – the dog was a cadaver dog. They had found a body buried under the rubble.

The woman seemed to be surrounded by a blue-white mist, she doubled, her other form rising from her kneeling body and shifting to the shape of a man in dark clothing. He walked through the pile of rubble as if it weren't there, emerging moments later with a rapidly disappearing form. He knelt back down into the woman and the woman stood up, the mist dissipating around her, she stretched and looked around.

Her eyes locked with Steve's, she gave a friendly wave and walked away. Before he could follow her or ask her what the hell she thought she was doing, he heard Tony's voice in his ear piece, "Hey Cap, we've got civilians trapped under some rubble on Broadway, we could use your muscle."

Raising a hand to the communicator in his ear, he said, "Copy that, I'm on my way."

"Huh, I really thought you'd say 'roger'."

_Sigh._

He sketched her that night out of memory, handing the sketch to one of the incident commanders who handed it to one of the coordinators for the CERT teams, "Sorry Captain," the coordinator said as she scrutinized the sketch, "I don't think she was attached to any of our teams. We'll keep an eye out for her though."

The second time he saw her, he was with Thor, it was the next day and while the search and rescue efforts had largely ended, the recovery operation was still in full swing. One of the Chitauri Leviathans had crashed into a building while people were still inside and they were still pulling out bodies. She appeared once more, wearing the same uniform she had worn the other day, once again kneeling by piles of rubble and separating from herself periodically. He still couldn't understand what she was doing but she didn't belong in this disaster zone if she wasn't helping, so he started walking towards her only to feel a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't interfere with the Valkyrie Steve Rogers," Thor said.

"The _what_?"

"The Valkyrie," Thor said, "… Well she's not of the Valkyrior, they haven't been on Midgard in a long time. I believe your people call them Grim Reapers now, they lead the souls of the dead. We shouldn't interfere with their work."

Steve turned to look at Thor, "So you can see her too?"

"Of course I can, I'm a god," Thor said giving Steve a smile that was not at all smug. He was then called away to help with a few people trapped on the top floors of a building.

She had noticed them staring and she looked back, eyebrow raised. Then the police officer approached her, "Ma'am, are you allowed to be here?"

"Yes?" she said, her voice held a slight accent to it but Steve couldn't quite place it.

The officer looked at his phone and then at her again, "I've got a notification that you're not a member of any CERT," he said, "Are you impersonating search and rescue?"

Steve stepped up and was about to say something, but she beat him to the punch.

She took out an ID card, "My name's Grace Ruan, I'm on the roster for a CERT in DC. I'm sorry, I thought I had notified the ICP that I was here but I guess things are so chaotic right now, must have slipped through the cracks."

The officer took her ID, looking at it and her and it again, "Look Miss Ruan, it's hard enough to vet everyone trying to volunteer here. I'd go back to the ICP and get this sorted out before people think you're here to gawk."

"I understand," Grace said as she took her ID back, "I'll let the ICP know I'm here."

He nodded, "And let any friends of yours from the DC teams know to sign in with Incident Command before going out here."

"Yes sir," Grace said.

The officer looked at Captain America, giving him a small smile, "Cap, can't thank you enough for saving my ass out there yesterday. Thought those alien bastards were going to be the last thing I saw on this green earth."

Steve smiled, "Just doing my job Officer Bern," he said as he looked at the policeman's nametag.

Officer Bern tipped his officer's cap to Steve before walking down the street, Steve looked at Grace, "So what is it that you really do?"

"I'm a member of a Community Emergency Response Team… I respond to emergencies … in the community," Grace said.

"DC's a bit far from New York," Steve said.

"Well I was in the area," Grace replied, "I consider the whole US my community, it's a great country."

"And you just … happen to be carrying around your uniform when you travel?" Steve asked.

She seemed a bit tense, she looked Steve straight in the eye and said, "You can see me, can't you? At work?"

"Where do you lead the dead?" Steve asked.

"Depends on their religion, there are a fair number of Buddhists in New York, not as many as in say, Vietnam, but still. A lot of atheists too. I don't help out the Muslims, Jewish, or Christians – they have Angels to take care of those since they're Abrahamic religions, God with the capital G doesn't like me messing around with His system," Grace shrugged.

Steve was dumbstruck, he looked at her with slightly wide eyes as he said, "God exists?"

"He exists, Zeus exists, Odin exists – though he and Asgard's widely butted out of human affairs until now …, Ra exists, the Jade Emperor exists, Mictlantecuhtli exists, as does many other pantheons and deities," Grace said, counting off the various gods on her fingers, "Everything you can think of, even the Flying Spaghetti Monster…"

Steve just stared at her, he realized his mouth was slightly open and he closed it. This woman was crazy, she had to be, and yet he just saw her guiding the souls of the dead all around them just moments before. Thor had even called her a reaper.

She saw the look on his face, "And this is why I hoped that I would never be seen at work and confronted about it. If word gets out to the general public that God does exist with all the other deities, well I don't want to think through the consequences of _that_…"

Steve was still silent as _he _was thinking through the implications that yes, God was real.

Grace sighed, her watch beeped and she checked it, "Look, I know I dropped a bit of a bombshell on you and I'm sure you have plenty of questions. However, I think we both have jobs to do right now, go help the living Captain America, I'll go help the dead."

She turned and walked away, leaving a still dumbstruck Steve looking after her and trying to wrap his mind around what she had just said. Grace stepped around a corner and stopped herself, staring straight ahead like thinking through something, finally she said to herself, "Holy shit. _That was Captain America._"

Should she have given him some contact information? She felt a bit bad about seemingly shattering his whole world view in a few sentences, the guy was apparently from the 1940's if she remembered the propaganda correctly, he probably was super religious. He probably had a ton of questions and she doubted a priest would be able to answer them at this point.

Of course, she wasn't sure she'd be able to answer them either.

'_Don't get involved with him or the group he's with now_,' a small voice in her head said, '_Or did you forget the vow you gave to Yama that you'd be neutral._'

'_That was before the portal in the sky opened up over New York and a demi-god invited several thousand aliens to party it up in Midtown,_' another voice chimed in.

Her watch beeped again and she checked it, she had a lot of work still left to do. The question of if she'd ever see Captain America or his new friends again would have to be answered another day, the dead were waiting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It would be two years before they saw each other again.

"Bring him back!" he heard someone scream from an alleyway nearby. Steve was in Washington D.C. working for SHIELD now, busting bad guys under Fury's orders and repelling Natasha's attempts to get him a date.

A young man stood with a gun pointed squarely at Grace, at her feet was another young man, unnaturally still. Her physical form was knelt down next to the dead man, her other form was standing calmly with both hands in the air, "I'm sorry Brandon, that's not how it works."

"How do you know my name?!" Brandon demanded.

"Because your friend Nate did," Grace said, "I'm sorry he's dead and he's moved on."

"No, no, you can bring him back!" Brandon pleaded.

Steve stepped out of the shadows, "Son, put down the gun."

"'Son', seriously?" Grace asked Steve with a raised eyebrow.

Steve didn't pay her any attention as he stepped between Grace and Brandon, wishing he had his shield on him – but nothing brought more attention to him than him carrying around a shield on his back when he was in civvies, "You don't want to do this."

"He wanted me to tell you he was sorry," Grace said, stepping out from behind Steve and walking towards him, "He was trying to protect you from the gang, that's why he went alone."

Brandon let out a sob, "Please," he said, his grip on the gun loosened. She reached out slowly, grabbing it – that's when Steve looked behind him and realized that Grace's physical body was no longer kneeling next to Nate's body, it was now kicking the gun away and pulling Brandon into a comforting hug.

An hour later after calling the relevant authorities and getting out before they could be questioned, Steve and Grace sat at a corner diner that was still open at the ungodly hour of three am. Her face was calm as she stirred cream into her cup of coffee, but her hand shook ever so slightly.

They were seated towards the back, away from prying eyes and ears.

"I wasn't too worried," she said.

"He could have shot you, that was dangerous," Steve replied wondering if this woman was suicidal or just absurdly calm in the face of death.

Grace laughed, it was more of a snort really, "Yeah like that would have done anything but inconvenience me for a few days – It's been years since I've taken a vacation."

"You could have died," Steve said.

Grace shook her head, "Guess I forgot to tell you in New York … I can't die. Not yet at least – I owe a debt of a thousand lifetimes and I've used up four of them."

At Steve's blank look she stirred her coffee and looked out the window, she seemed tired. Internally she fought on whether or not to tell him, she had never told anyone what she was – what she did. And yet, something about him seemed trustworthy, like she could tell him anything.

She didn't look away from the window, her eyes fixed on a point in the distance as if remembering something from a long time ago. Her hands encircled the coffee mug and she sat leaned over it slightly, shoulders hunched, "I was born in Vietnam – it was French Indochina back then - in 1944 as Nguyen Lan Chi. I had always been able to see the souls of the dead and given that I was living when we decided to rebel against France – I saw a lot of them. My family was … weirded out by my abilities to say the least. My great grandpa had the gift, but he died the night I was born. I spent my childhood seeing ghosts and the strange beasts that guided them to the afterlife. When I was 20, the American War started – your Vietnam War … we lived in the south."

Steve was silent through all of this, she looked to be in her mid-twenties, the math didn't add up.

"My family was split on to who to support. My father joined the NLF with three of my youngest brothers and they were killed over the next few years, my two other brothers joined the ARVN and they died in the beginning days of the war," she took a sip of her coffee, her hand was shaking again.

"The last of my brothers died in my village after a failed ambush on an American patrol during the General Offensive, I held him as he died and his soul left. I was the oldest child, it was my job to protect my siblings and here I was, losing my last one. The guide tried to take my brother but I held on and," she smiled slightly, "It's amusing now but it wasn't in the moment … I may have punched him in the nose."

Steve nearly spit out his coffee, "You punched the Grim Reaper in the nose."

"It wasn't the Grim Reaper," Grace said, "Guides are usually whatever death deity or psychopomp you believe in, though sometimes if they don't believe in any of those – I just go with a loved one or a pet, whatever makes it easier for them to cross."

"So who was it for your brother?" Steve asked.

"Yama, the King of Hell, and a god of death," Grace said before taking a sip of her coffee.

"I thought the King of Hell was Satan," Steve said.

She looked at Steve over the rim of her coffee cup and she lowered the cup, "Well for one, in Christianity: Hell is presided over by God Himself," she said, "_The Divine Comedy_ was basically 14th century fanfic that led to some … misinterpretations of scripture. For two, remember what I told you in New York? There's more than one god. God with a capital 'G' exists, as does Zeus, Odin, Ra, and many other gods in many other pantheons and religions. As long as people believe or believed in them, they exist. It gets a bit complicated with some religions given there's a lot of cultural and historical overlap but," she waved her hand dismissively, "3 am in a coffee shop is not the greatest time for a lecture on world religions."

"Anyway, punching him in the nose _really _ticked him off," she continued, "as did the fact that I tried to tell him to give me my brother back."

"And so," she said gesturing to herself, "Almost 46 years later, here I am."

"You were born in 1944 but… you don't look 70," Steve said, stopping as he realized how he sounded and mentally facepalming, "I'm sorry, I meant –,"

Grace laughed, "I know what you meant. I don't take offense to it, really I grew up in a culture where the older you looked the more respected you were. I also realized that if I were going to deal with this 'thousand-lifetimes' mess I might not want to age appropriately. Yama agreed when we came up with the terms of my servitude and I stopped aging. Who wants to deal with arthritis for the next couple thousand years?"

Her watch beeped and she checked it, frowning, "Duty calls. I'd avoid the Washington Circle area if you're heading that way, traffic's going to be bad for a while."

She stood up, setting a few bills on the table for her coffee, "It was nice to talk to you Captain."

Steve sat up that night at his laptop, curious – he opened a web browser and quickly Googled something.

"She punched _him_ in the face?!"

He later looked her up when he was sitting in the locker room at SHIELD, he had the whole resources of the organization behind him to do so and she had given him her name, both of her names, freely. Nguyen Lan Chi was born in Vietnam in September 1944 and disappeared – presumed dead – in 1968 just after the Battle of Hue. There wasn't much information on her beyond that.

Grace Ruan made an appearance in France first in the 1990's, moving to the United States in the 2000's and obtaining citizenship. She attended college in France, earning a degree in Classics and History, she worked as an archivist at a local college in DC.

Steve put down the tablet, rubbing his eyes as he thought of the past two years of his life. He had grown up believing in one god, he had went into the ice believing in one god, and now in the Avengers he fought along side a man who could very well be considered a god. He just met a woman who said she served yet another god and had he not seen her leading ghosts around, he'd have never believed her. There she was though, supposedly having been on this earth for 70 years and barely showing her age.

The real question was: now that he had this information, what was he going to do about it? He could tell Fury there was a psychopomp walking the streets of America but what would that accomplish? She seemed to be willing to give him her story in confidence, she didn't seem to be a threat or an asset – only able and wanting to help the dead.

A knock at the door broke him out of his thoughts, Rumlow stood there, "Hey Cap, jet's fueled, wheels up in 5."

Steve nodded, putting away the tablet and standing up. He grabbed his shield and they were off to the hangar.

_2 months later_

She and her mom had left Vietnam shortly after her family died, emigrating from the country to France. They had lived there until her mother finally died of old age and Grace moved on. Now she found herself walking the streets of Le Havre with a bag of groceries in hand. It was after dark, the breeze ruffling her hair from behind her as she walked towards the ocean side. She had hoped to stay in D.C. or the states a little while longer, three crashing helicarriers, and a random eye-patched man in her apartment telling her she should get moving convinced her otherwise.

Her new home was a small apartment near the ocean, she paused as she was about to put the key in the lock. Not looking up she said, "Look if you're going to sneak up on a psychopomp, maybe _don't_ kill people in the vicinity."

"You possess a powerful gift Miss Ruan," a man said and Grace looked up, seeing several men clad in black, "You would make a valuable asset to our organization."

"Let me stop you there," Grace said, "And tell you the story of Sisyphus and Thanatos."

"I'm familiar with the story," the man said with a patient smile.

"Great," Grace returned the smile, "then you know that capturing a psychopomp is a _really_ stupid idea, especially one who's got the King of Hell on her side."

The men had surrounded her now, closing in.

"HYDRA is beyond the reach of any god," the man smirked.

The ghost of the apartment doorman whispered a warning to her and she smirked, "What about the reach of Captain America?"

"What?"

She crouched as a shield came flying overhead, slamming into a HYDRA agent and knocking him down. The shield bounced off the agent, rebounding back to Steve's arm. Grace leapt up at the closest agent, slamming into him and knocking him off balance. Gunfire erupted in the hallway, Steve wasn't alone, he was joined by Natasha and Sam. The agent she had knocked over had managed to grab her, they were now grappling on the ground over the knife he drew. She felt the blade enter her chest and she looked down at the knife and at him before collapsing.

The agent didn't have a chance to react, Natasha shot him dead before he could stand. She ran to Grace, kneeling by her as the short battle wound down, "Steve," she said.

Steve looked over, seeing Grace lying in a pool of quickly spreading blood, he ran over, gesturing to Sam.

Sam quickly went to work as Steve looked up to see Grace standing over him and staring down at her body and the rest of the bodies in the hallway, "Well this is a bummer. I was enjoying France."

"Just hang in there," Steve said.

Grace looked off into the distance, "Just get my body somewhere safe and preferably comfortable, _please don't dump me in a morgue_, I'll be up in a day or so. I need to take care of these guys first," she gestured to the 5 or so ghosts that were in the hallway.

"Steve, who are you talking to?" Sam asked, looking around them.

"I still don't know how you can be so calm about this," Steve said, ignoring an increasingly confused Sam.

"I'm surrounded by death every day, I've learned to deal," Grace walked over to the nearest HYDRA ghost, taking on the form of a small Golden Retriever.

The dead man stared at the dog with wonder, "Buster?"

The dog barked twice, tongue lolled out in a happy pant, wagging his tail, and prancing alongside the ghost until he disappeared. Grace reappeared to another ghost as a tall figure clad in a black hood, a skeletal hand reached out and held the hand of the ghost, leading him down the hall until he too disappeared.

"Steve," Natasha said, bringing his attention back to her, Sam, and the very pale body of Grace, "We need to go."

"Let's go," he said as he reached down to grab Grace but Sam put a hand on his arm.

"Steve, she's gone."

"No she's not," Steve said as he picked her up and carried her bridal style, "Look I'll explain later but we need to get her body out of here."

Trying to explain hours later to Tony Stark why they were bringing a corpse into the medbay of Avenger's Tower was one of the most surreal experiences Steve had experienced.

"_You're bringing a corpse into my medbay Rogers. Why are you bringing a corpse into my medbay?"_

_1968_

_Outside of Hu__ế_

He had collapsed in her arms, gunshot wounds riddling his torso. Feebly, he clutched her shirt, "Don't let me go," he managed to croak out before his eyes rolled back up in his head.

"I won't," she responded, clutching his body to her as her white shirt stained red with blood. There was the sound of gunfire, the Americans were getting closer, trying to find everyone who was involved in the ambush – probably for their stupid casualty counts.

She felt a presence looming over her and she looked up, her brother's spirit stood trembling before the two guides to the Underworld, the Heibai Wuchang. Quickly she grabbed her brother's hand, not realizing she herself had left her body at this point, glowing white chains came out of her arm and bound their hands together, "You're not taking him," she said – jaw jutted out in a pout like a petulant child, not even noticing the fact that she had formed chains.

"Child he is dead," the guides said in unison, their voices doubling into a bone chilling tone, "He must be taken before Yama and judged for his sins."

"Take me too," she said, "Aside from my mother he's the only family I have left."

"Lan," her brother started to say but she silenced him with a look.

The guides exchanged a glance, "You are still of the living."

"Take. Me. Too," she said, glowering at the two guides.

The guides tried to grab her away but the chains she created kept them from separating her, "I am not leaving my brother."

Faced with no other option, they dragged both her and her brother into Naraka, the Underworld, past the gates guarded by Ox-Head and Horse-Face, and to the King of Hell himself. Yama cut a terrifying figure, a big blue giant with four muscular arms, a square face, and fat lips.

"This one is still living," he rumbled as he stood up, towering over them as he stepped down from his throne, "Why is she attached to this boy?"

"We're not sure," the guides said, "she formed chains. We could not separate them."

Yama knelt down, reaching out to grab the chain she had formed to bind her and her brother. She waited until his face got close to examine the chain, her fist reeled back and she punched him in his big, meaty nose.

"Bring him back!"

There was a moment of terrifying silence, Yama had grabbed the chain attached to Grace and her brother, effortlessly he snapped it between his thumb and forefinger. Another hand batted Grace to the side like a troublesome fly.

"You insolent child," Yama said in his deep, booming voice, "You wish to fight death?!"

Grace shrank back, getting to her knees and kowtowing to the god, not having the courage to say anything. There were whispers around her, "She punched him, how could a mere mortal touch the King of the Underworld?"

"What were those chains that bound her and her brother?"

"Silence!" Yama said.

The court went eerily quiet.

"I will judge your brother first," Yama said, "Be thankful that your actions have no bearing on his punishment. As for you, you will pay for your transgressions."

_1 week later_

A hand covered in dirt, blood, and sludge shot from the ground, frantically waving around. Another hand shot from the ground moments later, Grace swam her way to the surface of the grave, coming out of the loosely packed dirt and mud gasping. Tears pricked at her eyes, around her she saw the dead spirits walking around the top of the mass grave.

She coughed, wincing as something metallic came up her trachea and onto the ground in front of her, fragments of a bullet. The wound in her chest had healed, _'Likely done by an American bullet_', they wanted to make sure she was dead. It wouldn't be until years later that she learned the massacre was done by the Communists.

She gasped for breath, Yama's voice thundered in her head, "_You have work to do. The balance must be kept._"

Blue-white tendrils of mist surrounded her as she separated from her physical body, she had a thousand lifetimes to atone.

_Present Day_

It was days later when the electrodes on her chest picked up a heartbeat. She woke up an hour later, shivering at the cold in the room – at least she wasn't in a morgue this time or underground.

Shaking away that memory, she took stock of her surroundings, she was in a sterile looking room. One wall had a bay window on it, the blinds were drawn closed, the other walls were more like windows that were tinted a bright white. An IV ran from her arm to a bag of saline solution, she decided against ripping it out – she had done that once and never wanted to deal with the bloody mess that entailed ever again. She sat up, pulling down the collar of her hospital gown slightly to reveal a bandage on her chest from where the knife went in. The area was still a little sore but she knew the wound itself had healed by now, leaving a scar in its wake.

The door opened and a Korean woman dressed in a white lab coat walked in, she smiled at Grace, "Good afternoon, I'm Doctor Cho. Good to see you awake."

"How long have I been out?" Grace asked.

"A day," Doctor Cho said, flipping open a chart and checking on Grace's vitals, "I'd like to keep you here for another day or so for observation."

"That's fine as long as I get to eat and change out of this," she motioned to the gown.

Doctor Cho nodded, "I'll let Mr. Stark know you're awake and get you some clothes."

Tony came in next, she stiffened at the sight of him – sure he had given up on the weapons business but given how many war zones she had been in that had Stark tech lying around, it was going to take a while for her to not connect his face to the deaths of many _many_ people.

"So how did you do it?" Tony asked, crossing his arms.

"Do … what exactly?" Grace asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, Helen had taken out the IV and she felt okay about moving around a little, getting used to living again.

"The spontaneous resurrection," Tony said, "You were dead for a day. No heartbeat detected, no brain activity either."

Grace stood up, sock clad feet hitting cold vinyl tile, "Did Captain Rogers not explain it to you when he brought me here?"

"He tried to," Tony said, "I didn't believe him until we realized your chest wound had healed on its own. Then an hour ago your heart started beating."

"I spontaneously resurrect, it's a perk of being indebted to a god of death," Grace said as she walked to the window, "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to get dressed and eat something."

"Excuse me, did you just say you got your powers from the 'God of Death'," Tony asked incredulously.

"_A_ god of death," Grace said, "There are more than one. Don't look so shocked Mr. Stark, you literally are on the same team as an Asgardian."

"That's different," Tony said.

Grace raised an eyebrow, "Is it?"

She peeked out of one of the blinds, looking out at the New York skyline, the sun was low in the horizon, casting everything in a bright orange light. Idly she wondered if she should stay here or move somewhere else – HYDRA was still probably after her and there was the matter of the conversation she had with Yama while she was … out.

"If you don't mind Mr. Stark – because I certainly _do_ … I'd like to not be clad in only a hospital gown for this conversation," Grace said.

Grace sat at the table in the conference room half an hour later, eating a sandwich, dressed in a pair of jeans and a plain t-shirt. Sam walked in, pausing for a second as he saw her, "You were dead."

"I got better," Grace answered with a shrug.

"You got better … from being dead," Sam said flatly.

"Yep," Grace said taking another bite out of her sandwich.

Slowly the other Avengers and Maria Hill filtered in, being alerted by JARVIS that there was a meeting in the conference room. Grace looked at Tony, "So now I'm answering these questions in a communal setting?"

"Well since Cap decided it would be a good idea to bring you into _my_ tower, I thought it would be good for all of us to know what _we_'re dealing with," Tony said.

"You're dealing with someone who's only power is not dying permanently and who can guide the souls of the dead to the afterlife of their choosing," Grace said, leaning back in her chair, "Except for the afterlives of the Abrahamic religions, because the Angels don't like me messing with their system."

"And how did you get these powers?" Natasha asked.

Grace repeated the same story she told Steve, "… and after that I moved to France with my mom and spent the last 45 years as a psychopomp."

"You're cursed to live here for a thousand-lifetimes," Tony said flatly.

"995 now, by my count," Grace said, "Every time I die is another life."

"Why couldn't you know, kill yourself a thousand times to be free of the debt?" Bruce asked not unkindly, he was genuinely curious. He still wasn't sure he believed her but he also turned into a giant green rage monster so he was willing to keep an open mind.

Grace frowned, "I tried to. He told me that's now how it works, the death can't be by my own hand. Plus, I can imagine that killing myself a thousand times over would be a lot more painful than just dealing with the punishment itself."

"How do we know you're telling the truth about your powers?" Tony asked, echoing the thoughts of many in the room.

"Aside from the fact that you literally saw me rise from the dead like an hour ago?" Grace challenged.

"I'm sure there's a scientific explanation behind it that's not 'cursed by a god of death'," Tony said.

"I believe her," Thor said.

"I do too," Steve added quickly.

"_Thank_ you," Grace said, sounding relieved.

Sam spoke up, "If Cap believes her, so do I."

"Banner?" Tony asked.

"I'd like to run some tests before making any conclusions," Bruce said, "but Tony, she _did_ come to life after being dead."

"Romanoff?" Tony looked to the spy.

Natasha stared at Grace for a few moments, as if sizing her up as a potential threat or an asset, "I'm not going to say one way or the other. HYDRA wants you though and that's enough reason to be concerned with keeping you safe."

Clint spoke up, "I agree, I'm not sure if I believe in this psychopomp stuff but you _did_ just recover from a stab wound that should have killed you. HYDRA would want to know your secret."

Grace spoke up, "So what are you saying we do about HYDRA wanting me?"

"Stay here," Steve said, crossing his arms and looking Grace straight in the eye, "In New York where we can keep an eye on you."

"_Keep an eye on them. See if those mortals view themselves as gods above men,"_ Yama's voice echoed in her head.

She stared back at Steve, "Deal."

* * *

**A/N: **Okay so I did my best to research religion in Vietnam, pre-Vietnam War and people practiced mainly "folk religion" (Wikipedia's words), which I incorporate of Buddhist, Taoist, Confucianist, and Catholic (I'm assuming that got incorporated after France took over) beliefs with local deities and ancestor worship. Yama is a god that pops up in Buddhism and Hinduism and if you look at any of his depictions he looks absolutely terrifying.

Anyway, I had to simplify things_ a lot_ out of necessity because religion is a complicated subject and especially when religious rituals overlap and combine with other religions it's gahhhhh (ie, the Buddhist and Hindu hell are both called Naraka and while both religions believe in a cycle of rebirth apparently it's not an immediate thing?). Grace's specific religious beliefs will be expanded on in future chapters as will the reason why Steve can see her when she does her ~psychopompy stuff~ as I'm gonna call it.

Also in researching, I used a lot of what I know about the Vietnam War from the Ken Burns documentary which I highly recommend, it's a good documentary, just be aware there's some triggering stuff in it as it is about a war and has video from said war.


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